


Confluence

by threeplusfire



Series: Bad Things Come In Threes [4]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Birthday Sex, Body Horror, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you make friends in the most unlikely places and sometimes it is a kindness you both need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confluence

**Author's Note:**

> The sweetest, strangest friendship to come out of our talks about this setting. My deepest appreciation and thanks to the people who provide feedback, bounce ideas around with me, remind me to work harder, pat me on the head and generally inspire me - Lucy, Meaghan, Jay, Boa, Hannah, Summer, Leon, and Dexanari.

“What are you doing here?” Will asked.

“Happy birthday,” Ross replied. He held up a six pack of beer.

Will peered past him into the night, expecting his maniacal companions to pop up at any moment. Outside was quiet and peaceful.

“You shouldn’t be-”

“It’s just me,” Ross interrupted.

“Just you?”

“They have a party to throw down at the river.”

“Right.” Will sucked in his cheeks, staring at the gargoyle perched on the tiny widow’s walk at the edge of the house. It was past midnight, a faint breeze stirring in the night. Overhead, the stars of the great bear hung bright in the sky. It was a little unusual how visible they were over such a city. But someone put a lot of effort into grounding directed lighting in the residential areas and trying to minimize the burning brilliance of the city’s electric heart. Still not as many stars in the sky as there were out in the country, but Will would take the city’s vibrant heat over the stars any day.

“If I invite you in, it’s only for you and you have no power to extend that invitation,” Will said at last. He tried to think of what else he should say.

“I know,” Ross agreed, a smile quirking at his lips. He held up the beer. “You’re old enough to drink these this time, do it before they get warm.”

“Fine,” Will breathed, and pushed open the narrow door to let him inside. The slanted roof was too low for Ross to stand all the way up, except in the very center. Ross ducked his head warily as he stepped inside, slightly uneasy even with the invitation. But it was too late to back out of the idea now that he was inside.

Ross took off his shoes and settled on the floor, knees up and tail curled around over his feet. He flipped off the caps of two bottles and handed one to Will.

“Lalna, the one with Nano I mean, told me about this place with an amazing selection of beer. Thought it might be nice for your first grown-up drink to be a good one.”

“Sure,” Will said a bit dubiously.

“There’s a place, off the freeway, has everything you could ever want to find.” Ross tapped his bottle against Will’s. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” Will took a sip. It tasted not like what he expected. Not like the heavy dwarven ale at dinner. More like oranges and cloves and something that reminded him of the way bread smelled coming out of the oven. It wasn’t sweet, but it had a sort of fresh, bright taste. Will settled cross legged on the edge of his bed and tried to read the label on the bottle. It was no language he recognized. There was a picture of a glacier looming over pine trees, a bright blue sky and a bird silhouette.

“Did you have a good birthday then?” Ross’ voice interrupted his pondering.

“We had dinner at home, some cake… do you really care about this?”

Ross shrugged and sipped at his beer.

“I always thought birthdays seemed nice.”

“When’s yours?”

“No idea.”

Will grimaced. “Sorry, awkward.”

Ross shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m just not sure how long it was before I really knew- I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly born, I suppose.”

“How old are you?”

“Hmm.” Ross cradled the bottle in his hand and looked at it. “Old.”

“How old though?” Will pressed. Ross looked up at him, eyes glowing faintly in the dimness of Will’s bedroom. They were the same blue white as the glacier on the bottle label.

“A couple centuries, probably.” He shrugged again. “Old enough.”

Will contemplated that as he sipped his beer. Centuries.

Ross looked around the room, with its slanted ceilings and skylights overhead, the smooth wooden floorboards and the rug beside the bed. A desk, a lamp, a nightstand. Beyond those simple bits of furniture the room was crammed with stuff. Most of it was orderly, though a box of SD cards was spilling onto the floor and several of the sheets taped to the wall were full of pin holes. A laptop sat directly on top of a half-open computer case, cables wrapped in zip ties.  Behind it loomed a pair of monitors, blank and empty. There was a small folded frame on the desktop, a triptych of photos hidden in shadow. The bookshelves on the far wall were crammed with books, papers, spindles full of disks, spilling off the edges and stacked precariously in layers.

The little door to the widow’s walk and the roof top, open to the night air. Ross could feel the magic in the building, the wards Xephos laid carefully everywhere. There was something a little thrilling about being able to skate past them on Will’s invitation. Not that he intended to do anything with that. But knowing he could. Knowing he was somewhere Smith and Trott certainly had never been was also a little gratifying. 

“What kind of cake?” he asked.

“Chocolate. One from that bakery over on Anderson, the little place with the fairy lights in the sign.”

“If you walk past there around four in the morning, it smells fantastic.”

Xephos had brought out the cake, smiling as he cut pieces. The slice he put on Will’s plate had an enormous sugar rose on the top, delicate pink and green against the chocolate frosting. Will knew his uncle was remembering a birthday years and years before, when Will begged for the sugar flowers off the top of the cake and made himself ill eating too much. He didn’t even like frosting all that much, but he made himself eat the entire thing. Xephos smiled at him when he thought Will wasn’t looking. He had his fingers twined with Honeydew’s on the edge of the table, a fond expression on his face as they talked.

They talked quietly about Will’s birthday, the fuss Xephos and Honeydew made over him, the guests at dinner who came bearing gifts (mostly practical adult things but also more than a few frivolous little charms and trinkets) and good wishes. Xephos loved nothing so much as a house full of people eating and drinking and talking late into the evening. Ross was especially amused by Will’s descriptions of his family's friends. He didn’t mention Kirin and Ross didn’t inquire.

“Why are you here, really?” Will asked at length. He was watching Ross, the light from the bedside lamp small and golden. It reflected in his tail, and in the dark glass of the beer bottles.

“You still have my clothes, don’t you?” Ross answered after a moment. He didn’t feel like explaining the impulse that brought him here. It was still undefined in his own head. Ross turned it over and over, smoothing away the stray thoughts.

“What?” Comprehension dawned and Will flushed. “Oh. You want them back, I expect.”

“Mostly just the jeans, I hate having to go to the tailor for new ones.”

“Right.” Will got up, opening the dresser to find them in one of the bottom drawers. He wasn’t about to admit the hoodie was hanging up in the closet and he still wore it sometimes, chasing the faint scent of Ross. Or that sometimes he slept in it and jerked off to the memory of his mouth on Ross’ cock and his impossibly beautiful anatomy. Or that buried in a directory on his phone he kept all the photos Trott took in the car. He tossed the jeans to Ross and made his way back to his spot on the bed. He took a swallow of his beer.

“Thanks.” Ross looked at him, weighing his words. “Was he pissed at you when we dropped you off?”

Will made a face and took another hasty drink.

“He was less than thrilled, let’s say.” They both tacitly avoided using Kirin’s name. Safer that way.

“Hmmm.” Ross tilted his bottle up, finishing it off. He set it very carefully back in the cardboard next to the other bottles. Will looked at his own drink, finished off the last of it.

“Here.” Ross knelt up to hand him another beer and settled back on his heels. They sat in a comfortable silence.

“What games do you have?” Ross asked, pointing at the television sitting on a little stand near the desk. A stack of consoles sat underneath it, controllers resting on the floor.

“Just a few things.”

“A few?” Ross snorted. “Looks like a shop display. Smith brought home a Nintendo a couple weeks ago. You have Super Smash Bros?”

“Yeah.” Will grinned suddenly. “You want to play?” He hadn’t spent much time playing since he moved into the city, too caught up in the overwhelming tide of magic and information. But he itched to turn the game on and sink into it. His uncles were both bemused by his video game collection, but they weren’t terribly interested. Sometimes he could talk Lalna into a game.

“I will kick your ass all over the place,” Ross said somberly, but his smile was electric.

“Big talk for someone who’s only been playing a couple weeks.”  Will slid off the bed to grab the game. The console woke with a happy little chime when he came near. 

Will’s arm brushed Ross’ knee as he sat back on the floor and handed him a controller.  He was surprised to find Ross an avid, if sometimes careless player. Soon they were battling intensely, leaning forward towards the television.

“Fucking shit!” Ross shouted, and burst into raucous laughter as he lost in the first seconds of a new round. Will startled and almost dropped his controller.

“Sorry,” Ross chuckled. “Hope we’re not waking anyone downstairs.”

“I don’t think so.” Will touched the house lightly, feeling it sleeping and quiet beneath them. He breathed out a little sigh of relief. “Keep it down though, I don’t want the neighbors asking Xephos why there’s screaming in the middle of the night.”

“They probably wouldn’t have to ask why,” Ross said under his breath. Will flushed, and jerked his attention back to the screen.

Ross sneakily poked Will with his tail as they battled, escalating to knocking his controller askew at critical moments. Will retaliated by changing the game’s code on the fly to grant him extra abilities. Ross complained about the unfairness of using magic and wrapped his tail around Will’s leg. It was so easy and companionable that Will didn’t even notice how close they were until he dropped his controller to sit back against the bed. Ross sat right next to him, amused and exasperated at losing three times in a row.

“Birthday boy  and winner,” Ross chuckled. “Guess you get to pick whatever reward you want.” He leaned in and kissed Will on the mouth, that same deliberate, slow kiss Will remembered from the car.

Will was suddenly exquisitely aware of Ross’ tail curved around his knee, the gentle pressure of it tugging him closer, and Ross’ face so close to his own.

“I know we took a lot from you,” Ross said, pulling back and setting his controller down. He looked sideways at Will, the hint of a smirk on his face. “Though I don’t think you minded terribly.”

“But I thought…” Ross trailed off and looked around the room, before looking back up at Will. His tail shifted, loosening his grasp on Will’s knee.

“It’s your birthday. So I thought you could do the taking this time around.” Ross tilted his head up and to the side, watching Will.

The moment held, the music from the loading screen looping. Will searched his face, trying to find any sign of mockery, or a hint that maybe he misheard or misread the situation. Ross just smiled, waiting, the light from the television reflected in his eyes.

Will pushed him back and took a deep breath. Before he could second guess himself out of it, he leaned in close. He could feel the coolness of Ross under his palms and through the fabric of his shirt. Ross’ hands moved to his hips, one sliding up his back.

Will kissed him again, as if the opportunity might disappear if he hesitated too long. He was sloppy, hasty, and Ross made a little noise of amusement as Will’s hands fisted in his shirt and shoved him back against the bed. He let his own hands stay light, never pressing too hard or moving too fast on Will.

They fumbled out of their clothes, breaking apart only enough to wriggle out of jeans and pajama pants and shirts with haste.

“No underwear, really?” Will muttered, letting a hand graze the glass chips embedded in Ross’ stomach. There was not quite a pattern to them, smooth and irregularly shaped pieces that caught the light. 

“Why bother?” Ross shrugged. Clothes were an imposition he hadn’t taken well to in his new life. Smith would have let him stay naked all the time, but Trott insisted he had to get used to wearing clothes like everyone else. Ross drew the line at something so useless as undergarments though. Bad enough he had to get fitted for jeans.

Will shivered, down to his boxers and hesitating.

“Come here,” Ross whispered and lifted him up into his lap. Will made an indignant noise at being handled but didn’t try to move away as Ross settled him carefully against his chest. He shifted his leg so he was straddling Ross’ lap, knees pressing against his hips. Their faces were almost touching.  

“What do you want, birthday boy?” Ross’ voice rumbled in his ear, the sound sending desire thrumming down his veins. Will moaned very quietly and closed his eyes.  

“Easier question then,” Ross continued when Will didn’t say anything. “You want to fuck me, or you want me to fuck you? Cause either one sounds pretty good to me.” His tail curled around Will’s waist.

Will pressed his face to the side of Ross, cheek to cheek. He shifted his hips, feeling Ross stir beneath him.

“Like this,” he finally mumbled.

“Anything you want,” Ross said, one hand squeezing Will’s ass.

Will had to get up enough to remove his boxers, and Ross took the chance to dig through the pockets of his jeans for the packet of lube.

Will threw himself back onto Ross. This time he could better appreciate Ross, not cramped in a car and dealing with too much attention. The texture of him was so utterly unlike anyone or anything he’d ever touched, stone with the barest hint of life to it that moved fluidly but had no softness. If Ross held perfectly still, it would be like fucking a statue. Ross caressed him, his lips on Will’s shoulder and collarbone. Will ran his hands up through Ross’ hair, circling the base of his horns and marveling at the sounds Ross made in response. When he paused, Ross opened his eyes a slit and butted his head into Will’s shoulder.

“Well don’t stop.” His voice was muffled, and Will had to grin at the yearning of it. He pressed his hips forward into Ross, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cock, fingers sliding on the smooth ridges and whorls, following the pattern up the underside of his cock to the tip.

Ross hushed him, and then took his mouth to muffle Will’s moans. One hand in the small of Will’s back, he urged him up closer. He managed to rip open the packet of lube and cover his fingers in the stuff. He was a little surprised by Will’s needy sounds and pressing back into Ross’ fingers. He went slowly, slow enough that Will hissed at him to go faster. Ross kissed his throat, teeth grazing his adam’s apple as he worked another finger into Will’s heat.

All he could think about was getting Ross inside him. If he would be cold, or hot, if he’d feel that same fizzing sense of magic and if it would be too much this way. Impatient, Will scraped his fingers down Ross’ chest. The lights in the room flickered and dimmed. Ross suppressed a laugh and wondered if Will did that on purpose or not. He curled his fingers inside Will, enjoying the way he made little impatient noises.

When Ross lifted him up, Will moaned. Sliding down very slowly, knees wide to brace himself, Will shuddered at the sensation of the tip of Ross’ cock slipping cold and slick inside of him. He felt a prickle of goosebumps on the back of his arms, a shiver that passed through him and was gone in a flash. Ross noticed and chuckled.

“I’ll warm up faster inside,” he said, his lips brushing the skin just below Will’s ear. He pulled Will down just a little, easing him into more every couple breaths. Each thick ridge slipped slowly upwards, stretching him a little wider and making Will toss his head with the sensation. He leaned back just a little, biting his lip at the feeling of the curved lines along the underside of Ross’ cock catching and pushing into him.

Then he was all the way down in Ross’ lap. Ross let his head fall back against the bed. They stayed there for a heartbeat, perfectly still.

“Fucking, god,” Ross breathed out. Will rolled his hips, moving against him. Ross kept up a low voiced stream of curses and little moans, delighting Will. He rode him slow, knees digging into the rug. Will’s hands gripped his shoulders, keeping himself centered and steady. It felt amazing, harder and more slippery than anything he’d ever put inside himself. Will whimpered and pushed himself down further, trying to sink as much of Ross inside himself as he possibly could. He could feel the heat in Ross now. Ross’s fingers slid up and down his thighs, tracing the lines of muscle under his skin. When he took Will’s cock in his hand, Ross grinned briefly at the high whine he made. He tried to match his strokes to Will’s agonizingly slow rhythm. Will’s movements increased fractionally, a little jerk to his hips as Ross squeezed his cock, thumb rubbing over the tip to smear the drops of sticky fluid.

“Goddamnit Will,” he moaned. Each time Will’s hips settled down against his skin, Ross shuddered. “Fuck, go faster, please, for fuck’s sake.”

Will laughed breathlessly, his mouth open against Ross’ skin. He felt almost drunk, the mix of alcohol and magic and sex humming through him. He shuffled his knees a little wider, Ross’ hands on his waist now pulling him down. 

“Slow,” Will gasped. Ross made incoherent, frustrated sounds, but didn’t fight him. Will kept riding him, only picking up the pace the tiniest bit as Ross’ fingers moved back to his cock. He tried to breathe steadily, feeling the flex of the muscles in his thighs, his toes curled and the tops of his feet pushing down against the floor. He didn’t want it to end, not Ross’ growls and pleas, not the ache in the pit of his stomach, not the slick press of the gargoyle’s cock inside him.

Ross watched him, the concentration in his face, the way his eyes unfocused and lips parted as he moved. He wanted to flip him into the floor and just fuck him until he couldn’t breathe. Will arched his back and Ross moaned, louder than he intended.  He couldn’t stop himself now, the sounds spilling out of his mouth with every movement. 

Will closed his eyes, pushing himself hard down onto Ross. Ross pulled Will back down to kiss him until he gave up and let them both come, dragging his teeth along Will’s lip hard enough to bruise. His fingers curled tighter, squeezing over the head of Will’s cock faster with every broken off little noise he made. Will groaned wordless and deep, feeling that bone deep burn of sex and magic as he climaxed in Ross’ hand. 

For long moments he slumped against Ross, before reluctantly pulling himself off his lap. He climbed onto his bed and rolled over with a deep sigh. Ross tipped his head back, eyes closed. Blindly he reached out picked up what were probably his jeans and used them to wipe himself off with a little lip curl of distaste. He still really hated that feeling of come drying on his skin.

Will’s fingers brushed through his hair, over the tips of his horns. Ross turned his head, leaning against the bed to look at him. Will sprawled in his unmade bed.

“Come up here,” Will whispered. Ross looked at his bed and hoped it was sturdy enough to hold his weight. The mattress dipped and creaked alarmingly but nothing broke and they didn’t crash to the floor. Carefully, Ross settled against Will. He smiled to himself as the lamp turned itself off. Soon Will’s breathing evened and slowed. Ross stroked him softly with his tail, enjoying the restful peace of the attic. He wondered if Will would offer him breakfast, or if there was leftover cake. He wondered what Xephos would say about him being in the house. He wondered what Trott and Smith would say when he came home. Ross pushed the churn of thoughts to the side and curled himself closer around Will instead. Time enough to worry about all that later. For now, he would just keep silent watch over the man sleeping beside him until the sun came back around.

****  
  
  



End file.
